


The Ring

by JeanieT



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: A bit further than cannon, Anal Sex, Angst, Arena Sex, Fight Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 08:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13947264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanieT/pseuds/JeanieT
Summary: Damen thought he could hold his own in the ring. But that was before he realized it was two against one.The Ring scene in Captive Prince goes very differently for Damen.





	The Ring

Damen watched the ring, snarling at the wanton depravity. He was unable to look away as the men “performed” their rape for all to see. The eyes of almost every audience member were captivated by the pair, their bodies writhing, their moans and gasps amplified by the architectural acoustics. 

As their pace quickened and grew more ragged, Damen started to notice the blood beginning to flow to his groin. In his unclothed state, everyone would see him, and indeed, as he looked at Laurent, the prince’s eyes were staring directly between Damen’s legs. Damen welcomed the anger that banished his arousal, and the two men locked eyes. Damen scowled, but Laurent only quirked an eyebrow.

“You’re up next,” he mouthed at Damen. He made no sound, but the words were clear as his lips, which curved up in a cruel smirk. Damen’s eyes widened in horror. 

He moved his gaze back to the ring. The man on top had maneuvered the other man’s ass high in the air so the audience could get a look at the cock underneath. It was fully hard; Damon felt a bit better knowing the young thing was at least aroused. 

The man on top started to shout something, and just then the young man on bottom came, splattering the ground, limbs shaking. The audience cheered, and the man on top raised one hand, as if in triumph, but continued to thrust for another minute before a final plunge, where he threw himself forward over the other’s exposed back, limp and groaning.

There was a collective sigh of satisfaction from the audience, and a few more scattered claps. Slowly the men in the ring pulled themselves off the floor and exited the ring, each on opposite sides as they returned to their masters.

Damon felt a tug on his collar, and managed not to stumble as a guard tugged his collar chain, leading him into the ring. This could not be happening.

As he entered the ring, there were several loud whoops from the audience that taunted him. He pressed his lips together and looked across to the other side of the ring. A very large man was entering the ring across from him. This did not look like one of the pets, his muscles looked toned and battle ready. His heartbeat sped, with the familiar feeling of being about to go into battle. Well, if that was how they would play it, then so be it. He could win this fight.

The audience was jabbering loudly now, some taunts, some loud betting, several laughs. Then there was a loud “Oooooooh,” and Damon looked around. 

A third man had entered the ring.

He was not well muscled the way the big man was, but was lean and looked like he was getting to move quickly, the way he was jumping up and down like that. 

Damon looked around for some kind of referee; what kind of fight was this to be? What was expected of him? But before he could pinpoint someone and demand to be told the rules, one of the bland faced guards came and removed the chain from his collar. 

Damon grabbed the man’s hand and demanded, “What is this?”

“Standard fight to the orgasm,” the guard said flatly, shrugging as he smeared some kind of cream on his hands. 

“Standard?” Damon demanded. “Between three fighters? What is this, some kind of melee, free for -“

Without warning the guard grabbed Damon’s dick with his creamed up hands, applying the lube.

“What the hell!” Damon pushed the man away, forcefully enough to make the man fall backward. 

The guard scowled and started to right himself, but in the process his hand slipped a bit while searching for purchase, causing him to wobble precariously and fall again. The crowd laughed. He purpled and said, “Fine loser. It’s not as if you were going to top anyone in this fight anyway. They already prepped your entrance, that’s all you’ll need.” With that he left, closing the door to the ring.

Damon turned and looked at the other two competitors. Both were being stroked by their attendants, their dicks hardening and the applied lube dripping. Muscles looked like he was enjoying it too much, thrusting his hips into the attendant’s hands. Quick over there looked distracted, still hopping a little bit as the attendant tried to keep a rhythm. Neither one of them, Damon noticed, was wearing a slave collar, chain or pet’s body paint. They were free citizens, doing this because they wanted to.

His stomach flipped. It was a setup. Two against one to make sure Damon lost this fight. He turned and looked for Laurent; the prince was still lounging in his chair, feigning disinterest, but Damon wasn’t fooled. The prince was here, was watching, had arranged all this. His eyes filled with hateful accusation. Laurent flushed, a hint of guilt in his eyes, but didn’t look away.

A bell clanged and the crowd cheered. Damon whipped his focus back the ring and crouched in a ready pose. His two opponents didn’t even look at each other, only had eyes for him. Well, setup or no setup he wasn’t going down without a fight.

They didn’t both come at him at once, but one at a time. Damon realized they’d draw the fight out a bit for the entertainment value of the crowd. That might just give him his only possible advantage. He’d need to make his move quickly.

Muscles came at him first, lumbering close and swinging. He easily dodged, and leveled a kick at the man’s groin. Muscles turned in time to take the kick to the thigh instead.

Quick came next, moving so fast around to his left it would have been easy to miss the maneuver but Damon was watching and ready for the box toward his face, parrying with his own fists and aiming kicks, varying kicks and punches the way he’d trained. None of his own punches landed though, the man really was quick. 

Before he had enough time to form a better strategy, Muscles was on him again, grabbing for the knee he’d swung out for balance. Damon twisted the knee out of the man’s grip but still went down. He flipped over and brought a low kick to the other man’s ankle. 

With a grunt Muscles fell to his knees, but now Quick was coming over and Damon was still only kneeling. He countered a kick to his belly but the punch to his temple landed. 

Damon tried to shake off the dizziness, but the moment of pause was enough for his attackers. Muscles grabbed his feet and pulled, and quick came over and kicked his shoulder back down to the ground as he tried to sit up.

Quick grabbed his shoulder and pushed at the same time Muscles threw his top leg over and they flipped him so he was belly down. 

Before he had a chance to move, Muscles was on him, his heavy torso pinning Damon’s down, and Quick grabbed Damon’s hands and stretched them above his head and wrapped a cord around them, tying them off.

“Get over here,” Muscles growled at Quick, who abandoned Damon’s secured hands and stepped over him to straddle his shoulders. 

Damon brought his tied hands under his chest and pushed, arching his back, but Quick slammed his weight back down on his shoulders. He could hear the thwap of Muscles stroking his dick to get hard while he sat on Damon’s knees. 

Shit, this was it then. He could feel Muscles’ dick against his inner thigh, hard and long now, and he struggled to get a knee up to where he could roll the fucker. No luck. He could have rolled one opponent but the two of them working together was more than he could prevail against.

The crowd was still cheering, and the cheers became a chant. “Take him! Take him! Take him!” screamed the entire room. Damon felt his face flush with shame.

Muscles’ dick prodded awkwardly at his entrance a few times. Apparently he still didn’t trust his victory enough to let go with his hands. Well, if you think I’m going to make it easy for you, think again, thought Damen, and bucked his hip up as hard as he could. 

Muscles laughed, and his dick found the entrance. He laughed, a slow, menacing laugh, then swiveled his hips around until he could slide, and slammed into Damen, balls bouncing against Damen’s own. The crowd cheered.

Damen bit his lip to keep from crying out, turning his head sideways to rest on the floor. Damn Quick, without him he’d have kicked Muscles to the curb. Damn Laurent. Damn the whole perverted Veretian culture.

“What do you want!” Muscles shouted, holding still fully inside Damen. Damen was confused until he heard the crowd shout back. There were too many voices for the reply to be intelligible. 

“What do you want!” Muscles shouted again. 

This time the crowd unified: “Fuck him!” They shouted together. 

“Hell yeah!” shouted Muscles.

Quick moved off Damon’s shoulders, and pulled Damen’s hands way out away from his head, keeping leverage on them so he couldn’t use them to push. 

Muscles grabbed hold of Damen’s shoulders and pulled on them to slam hard into Damen. Damon’s mouth flew open and he only just managed to stop himself from shouting out. Muscles didn’t let up, but kept slamming, the beginning of a furious pace.

The crowd’s wild cheering receded to a rhythmic “Go! Go! Go! Go!”

Damon felt disgust dry up his throat. He continued to rock and struggle, but the rhythm was permeating the room and it seemed that even his struggles were contributing to the thrusts Muscles was slamming into him.

The crowd’s chanting started to speed up, and Muscles didn’t fall behind, but started to tilt his hips at different angles with each thrust. Finally, one of the thrusts hit Damon’s prostate and he gasped. 

Loud laughter filled the room as the chanting broke. “Hit that spot again, he likes it!” someone shouted.

“You bet he likes it!” shouted Muscles. “My. Cock. Is. Fuckin. Ama. Zing.” And with every thrust he hit that same angle, and Damon could only rock his head back, gasping like a fish. 

“Let us see his cock!” another audience member shouted.

“You. Wanna. See. His. Cock?” Shouted Muscles.  
Roaring approval filled the room. 

Quck nodded, and deftly ran another rope through Damen’s bound hands, and attached it to a pulley at the ceiling. Then he pulled the other side of the rope. Damen’s hands rose up, and his torso followed. 

The crowd oohed appreciatively at the mostly erect cock now aimed directly at them. He scowled at the flushed, eager faces that leaned toward him just outside the ring. This was so sick, and almost the entire Veretian court was here, excited by this depravity.

Damen was furious at his own cock for being erect, even though it was now plainly visible for all to see.

Muscles still hadn’t let go of Damen’s shoulders, and kept thrusting the whole time, even as Quick was raising them both up for better display. “This. What. You. Want. To. See?” Muscles demanded to the crowd. 

Roaring again. Damen felt shame start to flag his erection, but Muscles kept hitting that prostate, and he wanted to curse. He wouldn’t though, cursing would only delight the crowd.

“Hey. Jackass.” Damen thought Muscles was dressing him, for a moment, but Quick looked up. “See. If. You. Can. Make. Him. Cum.”

Quick smirked. “Can you last?”

“Longer. Than. You,” spat Muscles.

Quick tied off the rope to a wall hook, and then circled around the rutting pair. He sidled up to Damen and wrapped a hand around Damon’s cock. He didn’t even move his hand, just let the jerking motion of Muscles’ thrusts make Damon’s cock fuck his hand.

There were moans from the audience now, and Damen saw several audience members’ heads thrown back in ecstasy. The sounds were like dominoes, setting off one person after another. Limbs jerked, heads lolled, moans sounded over the top of each other.

Damen tried to focus on how wrong this was, how angry he was, but ever thrust sent that explosion of sensation to his brain, complimenting the tightness of Quick’s hand.

“Aaaaaah!” Another audience member came loudly, and Damen felt himself flush, body on the brink. No, he thought, I won’t let go, this will not happen.

But the thrusts made his eyes close and stars explode behind his vision, and he was over the edge and his body was jerking, shaking, and there was cum all over Quick’s hand. Quick yanked his hand away, grimacing, and made for the ring exit.

Muscles laughed, long and low, and spilled his seed inside Damen with a deep, devouring moan. He made a few more jerking thrusts inside Damen, then began to laugh again as he withdrew. 

Damen sagged, held just above a kneeling position by his bound hands and the pulley.

The crowd cheered, not so loud now, but at a more sated, languid level. Muscles took bows to each corner, and then left through the ring door.

Damen raised his smoldering eyes to where Laurent sat. Laurent still had his eyes on Damen. He wasn’t feigning disinterest anymore, but he didn’t seem sated as all the other courtiers looked. 

Damen’s fury radiated through his gaze as the guards freed his hands. He didn’t break Laurent’s gaze, hoping the prince could feel the promise of revenge that he felt with every bone in his body. He kept those hating eyes on Laurent until he was led back to his chamber.

Make no mistake, one day he would extract a revenge from Vere’s prince.


End file.
